New Faces
by Maelynn Meep
Summary: "'He that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest innovator', Sir Francis Bacon once said... or something like that..." Wilfred finds a strange young man in tweed collapsed on the front steps.
1. Chapter 1

**New Faces**

_By Tuba321_

_..._

**W**ilfred Mott had stopped looking at the stars.

He'd tried. He had honestly tried and tried, forcing himself out of the house and back to his telescope and blanket, trying to enjoy the wonders of the universe again. But the stars now held more than just wonder. Guilt was now his first reaction to the stars. Because out there, somewhere, was the Doctor that Wilf had caused suffering to.

For all he knew the Doctor might not even be out there.

The way that the Doctor had looked at him when he last saw him… that of total sorrow and yet not any remorse for the cause… was burned in his mind. Wilf knew in that second that, despite every single one of his hopes, the Doctor was dying. There was no turning back, no second chances.

And he was the reason for it all.

Then the Time Lord had disappeared, run off like a dog to die. Wilf dared to hope one more thing: that the Doctor wouldn't be alone. But that seemed as impossible as the first batch of hopes.

He didn't even know if the Doctor got his reward.

So now, Wilfred Mott was left with grief and guilt. He daren't look at the stars unless he wanted tears in his eyes. Donna had noticed and tried to find out what was going on with her Gramps, but even the fact that he couldn't tell her shook him further. He still tried to live, as the Doctor sacrificed so he could do so, it was just dulled somewhat. If there was anything that he did vigorously it was wait for a sign that the Time Lord was alright.

On a night that seemed to reflect Wilf's mood, dark, rainy and grey, he sat in his favorite chair in the living room, attempting to read a book.

Donna walked in, plopping down on the sofa with a sigh.

Wilf put his book down. "Shaun called?"

"Yeah, he says that he'll be at that convention for another week." Donna mumbled. It wasn't his fault, he had to choice she knew. "Thanks for letting me stay here. It's no fun staying in that big house all by myself."

He smiled. "You know that your mother and I always have room for you."

"Yeah." She said with honesty. They had very recently been very supportive and understanding, even after she and Shaun had won the lottery from that mystery of a wedding present. "I know. I was-"

A knock at the door interrupted her.

Wilf waved it off. "Just ignore it, sweetheart, it's probably a salesman."

She laughed a bit at that. "We get tons of those at out new house."

He chuckled. "The one thing you can't escape, eh?" He was about to add to that statement when the knock at the door repeated it self another three times, this time seeming more urgent. He frowned, standing up and turning to the door.

Donna stayed where she was. "Oh, come on Gramps, you're really going to answer it?"

"Well…"

The knocks came again; this time being a great deal slower, like the force behind them was losing energy or strength. This time Donna stood up, becoming genuinely freaked out. Finally, another sound accompanied the pounding, a faint, pitiful whisper of a word.

"Help." And then there was a final thump, one that wasn't against the door.

Wilf ran to the door, and threw it open before Donna could even react, making him much faster than she could have pegged for the older man. By the time she reached him, he was already at the door, staring down at an object on the ground. She gasped. It was a young man, in tweed of all things, apparently having collapsed on their front steps.

Without even thinking, she dropped to her knees to check on this stranger. He was breathing lightly, obviously alive and from what she could tell he wasn't bleeding anywhere, though she probably would check more thoroughly later.

She put a hand to his forehead. He didn't seem to have a fever, in fact he seemed colder than normal, but there was no mistaking that thing sheet of sweat and the obvious paleness. He was obviously ill, even without her seeing his face fully yet.

From her position on the ground she turned back to her grandfather and barked, "Well, don't just stand there! Help me move him!"

Wilf seemed to jump back into reality. Quickly, he and Donna picked the strange man up between them and awkwardly made their way into the house, not bothering to close the door behind them. They made it into the living room, clumsily placing him on the couch that Donna had just recently vacated.

As Donna stepped back a bit, she could see more of his features. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, with very dark-oddly styled hair and… a bowtie? The younger generation was strange, she decided.

Wilfred was already grabbing a pillow to place behind the young stranger's head and Donna decided to grab a nearby blanket to throw over him also. By the time they were done with him, he was wrapped up snuggly on the couch.

They sat on the chairs across the room, staring at him with worry and curiosity. "Who do you think he is?" Donna was the first to ask.

Wilf shrugged. "Dunno."

There was another elongated period of silence before Donna suddenly asked. "Do you think we should call someone?"

Wilfred hadn't thought of that. "We don't know him. We should probably just wait to see if he wants to call someone when he wakes up."

"What about a doctor? Do you think we need to call a doctor?" She asked, getting more concerned, in typical Donna style, over the unknown man.

Wishing he could call a very specific doctor, Wilfred shook his head. "No, sweetheart, we should probably just see what he wants to do when he wakes up."

"Well, alright." Donna finally agreed. A thought occurred to her and she smirked a little. "Probably got himself smashed."

Somehow Wilfred felt that this wasn't the case.

_..._

A few hours had gone by. Wilfred and Donna had taken turns checking on the young man, keeping tabs on his appearance and temperature. They'd finally popped in a movie of Donna's choosing (as if there was any other choice?).

They were just at the part where Barbra's Yentl started singing to her dead father in the woods when Sylvia came in, the door banging loudly. She came in a little clumsily, carrying an armful of bags.

"Well are you just going to sit there or help me?" She called at the two figures on the couch, completely overlooking the stranger.

The red-head and grandfather looked at each other, unsure of what to do, before reluctantly getting up and taking some of the bags from her. As they moved quickly into the kitchen, Sylvia cried, "Who's that on the couch?"

"Uhhh…" They both stumbled for words.

"He was sort of…" Wilf started.

"He just…" Sputtered Donna at he same time. "He just showed up on our steps, like that."

Sylvia leaned down over the stranger, brushing back his wild hair, worried about how pale he was. "And you didn't call a doctor or something? He looks right ill."

Donna walked back into the room, watching her mother check on the man. "No, we decided to ask him what he needs when he wakes up."

Nodding, Sylvia stood up and turned back to Donna. "Alright, tell me if he needs anything. I'm going upstairs."

Watching her mother leave, Donna decided not to ponder why that seemed easier than it should've been.

Interrupting her thoughts, the stranger moved a bit and groaned quietly, eyes moving slightly behind their closed lids.

"Gramps!" She called to Wilf, who rushed over into the room, taking lead by kneeling down next to the ailing man. Donna still couldn't help asking, "Are you okay?"

The young man shifted again, in response to the sound of Donna's voice, before his eyes popped wide open. He seemed to hesitate before turning to the two other people in the room, and if there was any doubt he was sick, it had disappeared in one fever-filled glance. Once he caught a glimpse of them, he closed his eyes and sunk his head back into the cushion again, sighing. "I must be delirious."

"What?" Asked Donna, sharing a look of confusion with her grandfather.

"I haven't seen red hair like that since…" He trailed off before opening his eyes again, seeming to panic slightly. "Amy! Rory! Where are they?" He looked around, slowly taking everything in. "Obviously not here 'cause this is a _delusion_." He seemed to conclude.

"Oi!" Donna grabbed his attention, Donna-style. "Listen mate." The young man flinched at her tone, staring at her with an expression that Wilf couldn't place, but he was listening. "We're _not_ delusions, you got that?"

The stranger seemed surprised by this, his mouth forming an 'O' shape. He looked at them again, this time studying. His expression at looking at Donna was hard-placed and one of attempted control. He looked at Wilfred next, catching his direct gaze. Something in those eyes, Wilf discovered. Despite the slight cloudiness, the stranger's eyes seemed familiar. A magnificent concoction of wisdom, misery, anger, power, age and timelessness, they struck Wilfred like only one other pair of eyes had before.

Abruptly the eyes turned away, staring back at the ceiling. "Right. Not a delusion. Was delirious _before_. When I came here." He sighed, sorrow seeming to creep into his tone. "That makes sense." His breathing got a little deeper, and he coughed harshly several times before his head fell back again. "Ugh." He groaned.

"Easy, easy." Wilfred put his hand on the man's head, the younger man closing his eyes, seeming to like the touch. He was warm, abet slightly.

"Do you think he needs a hospital?" Donna asked anxiously.

This seemed to rouse the stranger, opening his eyes again, looking fearful. "No! No hospital!"

"Why?"

Ignoring Donna's innocent question, the stranger moaned again, coughing.

Making a quick decision Wilf turned to Donna. "Sweetheart, could you grab something for him? He doesn't look well."

Donna looked at the stranger. She couldn't help but pity him. He looked absolutely miserable, pale as a ghost in comparison to the dark green blanket she had thrown over him hours before. His hair even added to the effect, somehow reminding her of the recent 'Twilight' movies. She nodded, standing up.

Weakly the stranger mumbled. "Anything without aspirin." As if an after-thought, he added, "Or penicillin."

Sarcastically, she said, though not unkindly, "Yeah, as if I have a secret stash of penicillin." She moved towards the kitchen.

Wilfred watched her go before turning back to the strange man. "Are you alright?"

The young man seemed to consider this. "No… no this is the one time I think that I can't say I'm alright, Wilf." He paused, seeming to ponder a fleeing thought, like his mind was fuzzy. "No. Definitely _not_ alright. Thing is: I don't know exactly what's wrong here. What's wrong with _me_, you see. Hopefully we'll sort this out because this is one of the least fun feelings I've had in awhile."

Wilfred had sat silent through that entire ramble, stunned at the stranger's use of his name. "How…? Do I know you?"

The young man looked at him dead in the eyes again and Wilfred could again see that familiar whirlpool of impossibility before the stranger looked away from him. He put on a mock-insulted expression. "You should. You killed me after all."

And Wilfred gasped, losing track of his breathing as a chilly-cold feeling rushed through him as the pieces of this puzzle fit together like clockwork.

_..._

**A/N:** Yeah. Loved ten's final episode. Very tragic. Actually made me cry. Felt bad for Wilfred too. So that's where this comes in. We all love DoctorWhump so why not? Also love Donna. One of my favorite companions along with Ace, Tegan, Sarah Jane and Jack (though not in that order!:D ) Bet you're wondering what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Pond? Well, I'll figure that out later. Kidding! Anywho, a couple of comments here... First of all, can we not see Donna being a Streisand fan? Am I right? Next, here's my point of view in one word on Twilight as a writer and reader: Disgusting. Probably offended a bunch of people there but, you know, whatever. Twilight is not a religeon people! Anywho, reviews would be nice. No flames please (including the ones by angry vampire fans). Will get back to this soon.


	2. Chapter 2

"**D**octor?" Wilf asked disbelievingly, leaning in closer to the young man.

"That would be me!" Said the Doctor, seeming a bit off. "Same Doctor, new face." He giggled as he took in Wilfred's expression. "New New New Doctor." There was a pause as he made a face at what he said and blinked heavily. "Sorry." He told Wilf, surprising him with an amazingly clearer-sounding voice. "This is like regeneration sickness all over again."

Looking over at him, the Doctor found that Wilf seemed to be doing an impression of a fish out of water, opening his mouth to say something and deciding against it. Eventually the timid question came. "Is that what's wrong with you?"

The Doctor actually had to think about that. "No… no! Of course not! I've been this me for… a year? Yes, a year now. I think…" He looked at Wilfred. "What year is this?"

"Two-thousand ten."

"Ah." Said the deceivingly young-looking Time Lord as he realized that his time wasn't exactly relative to everyone else's. "Right. Well… probably a year. At a guess. Anyways," He continued. "Not regeneration sickness."

Despite looking at the Doctor like he was a total madman, Wilfred nodded.

"The truth is," The Doctor continued to ramble, "that I have no idea what's wrong with me. Have some memory gaps apparently. Don't even know how I got here or where my friends went… I mean, I can't even figure out if this mania is new or not. This me is kind of…" He started to cough again, trying to cover his mouth. "out there." He finished hoarsely. "I once showed up at my friend's bachelor party, popped out of his cake and told him that his fiancée kissed me!" He turned and asked Wilf, in all seriousness. "Did you know that that is a bad thing to do?"

Wilfred had no response to that. The spirit of this young man's rambling certainly proved his identity but the shock of it seemed to hit Wilf harder. How different he was. Similar… but still completely different. It reminded him of his previous Doctor's description of regenerations. One dies and a completely new man appears. His burning question could not wait. "Did you get your reward?"

That seemed to shock the Doctor into silence. He looked Wilf straight in the eyes with a grim seriousness. "Well-"

"Well, it took forever, but I finally found something without aspirin." Donna interrupted, walking into the room and throwing a bag of something at the Doctor.

Wilf tried to calm his frustration as the Doctor looked at the bag's contents. "These are lozenges" He said absurdly.

"Yeah." Donna said. "All we have is stuff with aspirin in it. What are you, allergic to aspirin?"

The Doctor blinked at her tone. "Yes. One tablet could kill me."

This seemed to pacify Donna completely. "Oh." Was all she seemed to be able to say.

He shrugged slightly and went back to the lozenges, making a face. "These are like lollipops without sticks. Might as well have jelly-babies." He leaned his head over to look at her, grinning madly. "Do you have any fish-fingers or custard? Preferably both?"

Donna's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "No." She said, quietly, though not without humor.

"Ah."

At Donna's rising frequency of her giving him her 'he's a nutter' look, Wilfred decided to make a move. "You must excuse John here, Donna. He's always been a little odd."

This earned an odd stare from not only Donna but the Doctor as well (though it was less successful with his bought of coughing). "You know him, Gramps?" She asked increduously.

He nodded. "Yeah. Hard to recognize him though. He changed his-."

"Clothes." The Doctor finished quickly.

"What, was there a sale at Professors R' Us? Was sort of wondering about the bowtie." Donna said, voice laced with sarcasm.

He looked somewhat offended. "Bowties. Are. Cool." He stated simply. "Also fezzes. I used to have one… wonder what happened to it?" He looked around the room as if the fez would just magically appear before them. "Huh."

Ignoring that, Wilfred continued his cover story. "The lad here," This earned a snort from the Doctor. "And I knew each other from that astronomy convention we were at together."

"Oh?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes. Gave a lecture on how nebulas are the proverbial volcanoes of the universe. You know, how it gives life to a star while also representing the death of another star-"

"A lecture?" Donna asked. "What are you, twenty-six?"

He thought about that one. "Graduated early." He said.

"What about—"

"Donna, sweetheart." Wilfred said, interrupting Donna for probably the first time since the Doctor had met him. "Can't you see that he's ill?" He looked the Doctor. "Let's get you upstairs."

The Time Lord seemed slightly opposed to this, sitting up to talk. "I don't want to-" He started but interrupted himself with his own coughing, making, at least in Wilf's eyes, what ever he was about to say to be moot.

This was apparently true to Donna as well. She quickly rushed over to the Doctor, putting the green blanket, which had fallen when he sat up, back around his shoulders. "Nonsense. You look like death warmed over. Barely." She added, forcibly helping him to stand.

He made an odd moaning sound at that, his vision swimming and his head seeming to lean on her shoulder on his own accord, before he seemed to steady himself. Once steady, he managed to gain his own form of balance, hanging onto Donna for support but just barely.

They started moving, abet slowly, towards the stairs. Closer to the stairs, the Doctor coughed and stumbled, Wilfred immediately rushing to his side and catching him. The Doctor looked even paler than before, Wilfred noticed.

The stairs was not a fun experience. The Doctor had looked at them with a slightly exasperated glare before they had even gone up. Wilf and Donna practically had to coax him up, helping him gently, much to, as far as Wilf could tell, the Doctor's annoyance. He wasn't exactly used to being so dependent on two humans.

It took over five minutes to get the sick Time Lord up the steps and by then he was shaking from exhaustion and turning an odd color. No wait, Wilfred decided as the Doctor seemed to gain strength enough to rush away from them and hurry to the bathroom, that probably wasn't just exhaustion.

Donna and Wilf exchanged a glance, both sympathetic as they heard the Doctor bring up whatever he had eaten previously. Wilfred moved first, heading towards the bathroom. There he found a completely miserable looking Doctor, still kneeled in front of the toilet, grimacing.

"Are you alright?" Wilfred couldn't help but ask the useless question.

The Doctor looked at him, eyes not filled annoyance at the question, like he probably would have if he was better, but full of complete exhaustion and unhappiness. He shook his head and moved away from the toilet, sliding on the tile to sit up against the tub in a more comfortable position.

Wilfred walked over to him slowly, as if he would snap at him if he got to close. Finding that the Doctor obviously wasn't going to bite him, he sat down next to him. Despite the futility of it, Wilfred was reminded of all those times in the past where he had taken care of a sick Sylvia or even Donna when they were young. The age that this Doctor looked didn't help much either. The next thing he knew, he was rubbing circles on the Doctor's back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

It apparently was, as the Doctor closed his eyes, tension that Wilfred hadn't even noticed was there seeming to leave him slowly. This went on for a few long comfortable moments before the Doctor spoke. "Last time I felt this bad," He laughed weakly and slightly embarrassedly. "I was blonde and wore a cricket uniform. That was about six faces ago…" He said somewhat sadly, as if remembering better times.

Wanting to steer the Doctor into a distracting subject, Wilfred asked, "So how many… 'you's have there been?"

The Doctor sighed again. "This is the eleventh me." He seemed to get weary at that statement, reminded of how long he'd lived and what he'd done in the time of all of those older faces. The things he must have done, Wilfred mused. The people he must have known.

Wilfred was about to ask another question when he heard Donna's footsteps coming towards them. She walked in, unfazed by the state of the two men, and handed the Doctor a towel. "Figured you might need this." She said softly.

He took it from her, wiping his face with it. She had used warm water to dampen it. Same caring Donna, he thought.

She handed him another item, taking the towel when he was done. "Orange juice. Supposed to be good for you when you're sick."

He gulped it down, the coldness of it helping to calm his irritatingly sore throat and the flavor helping to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth from his period of nausea. Once done he handed her the cup back and looked at her in the eyes. "Thank you." He said, sounding extremely honest.

Donna just nodded and Wilfred knew that she was glad she was helping.

In normal Donna-fashion however she wasn't silent for long. "Come on." She said. "Let's get you off this freezing floor before you catch another cold." The Doctor grimaced but nodded his consent.

Wilfred stood up and helped the Doctor to his feet, the Time Lord managing to gain his footing once again. The three of them managed to shuffle into the hallway again. Donna was trying to move them towards the guest room when Wilf stopped her. "Let's put him in my room."

"Why?" Donna asked.

"I don't want to put you out." Wilfred responded. Donna had been using the guest room since she'd temporarily come to stay.

"But gramps—"

"I don't want to put _you_ out." The Doctor interrupted her, looking at Wilf. But all he was paying attention to was the Doctor's sickly look.

"Nonsense, I have a couch in my room, I'll just sleep in there. Keep an eye on you."

"But-"

"No buts from either of you." Wilfred took charge, Donna and the Doctor's protests silencing. Neither of them could really argue with this plan, he knew. It made too much sense.

Finally seeming to agree on a destination, the group moved into Wilf's room. There wasn't much there really. A window with a well-used telescope seated nearby, a few star charts on a desk along with some well-thumbed novels, a television, a bed and a not-terribly-uncomfortable-looking couch.

They let the Doctor sit down on the bed while Donna rushed into the bathroom to grab another wet cloth. She returned and commanded. "Shoes, jacket and bowtie off."

The Doctor just stared at her blearily before working on his laces.

Donna went over to Wilfred, who was watching the Time Lord attempt to untie his own shoes. "Are you sure about this?" She asked quietly.

He looked at her. "He's a good friend and he needs help." He answered just as quiet.

"You didn't even recognize him twenty minutes ago."

"He's… changed. I haven't seen him in a while." He replied honestly, hoping to satisfy her doubts.

But Donna was never one to be easily satisfied. "But then why would he show up _here_?" She asked.

He gazed at her before sighing. "I don't know." He said wearily, looking back at the Doctor who had finally gotten his shoes and jacket off and was working on the bowtie. He watched as the Time Lord got the thing off, looking at it as if he was mourning its presence around his collar.

Watching her gramps and the way he was looking at this stranger, Donna knew at least one thing: Wilf really did care about him. She didn't know why but she wasn't about to disappoint him.

"Alright." She said, gaining the attention of the Doctor. "Bed, now." She moved him so he was sitting on the couch while she moved the blankets for him. He didn't resist as she almost forcibly placed him in bed, tucking the covers around him. She leaned close to his face. "You'd better get better." She said. "'Cause if you upset my gramps-"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He answered. She nodded. He did look sick, practically pale as a ghost against Wilfred's dark blue duvet. She put the cool wet towel on his forehead with care before heading towards the door.

She stopped there and turned to her grandfather. "If you need me just… shout." And suddenly Wilfred was reminded of something she had said before… when she was searching for the Doctor. He just nodded.

She left and Wilfred stared at the door for a moment, the idea that the Time Lord and him were all alone together striking him.

"Well she hasn't changed." The Doctor said quietly from behind him.

He chuckled at that. "No." He said, turning back to him. "You can never change that one. She's still—" He stopped himself at the sight of the Doctor, already asleep on the bed.

Wilfred sat down on the couch. The Time Lord was breathing deep and evenly, but still pale as a sheet and with sweat on his brow. This time, promised Wilf, he wouldn't let the Doctor slip through his fingers again.

...

**A/N:** So... chapter two! Yey! Did most of this in one day so... yeah. Still don't know what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Pond but you'll find out soon enough. And yeah, he's actually the New New New New New New New New New New New Doctor. Not much else to comment on here, it's just a continuation of the DoctorWhump so... Enjoy. Please review. Thank you to the five who already reviewed. You're so kind!


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